


Yes, General

by JaqofSpades



Series: A Cure for Sore Muscles [1]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, TSC prompt 11, role play of a sort, vaguely dommy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:16:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4814609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaqofSpades/pseuds/JaqofSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Too many hours crouched over a workbench a cranky Marine makes.  Luckily, Sgt Clayton has General Matheson around to lend a hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yes, General

**Author's Note:**

> My first story for Revolution: The Second Coming! To fill Prompt #11: ‘A cure for sore muscles’, pairing Miles/Nora. (Click on the series tag to read the companion piece, Six O'clock High, my Charlie/Bass fill for the same prompt.)

 

Nora has been bent over the bench for six hours straight when the General prowls into her workshop. He takes one look at the tangle of componentry that can’t even pretend to be a functional drone, and groans.

“You’re not done _yet_?”

She tries not to bristle.  He’s not just her boss, he’s her boss’s boss.  A four-star general, no less.  That doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole, she fumes.

“I said it would take me the whole day.  This is an experimental project for fu -  Sir.”

His espresso-dark eyes twinkle – not quite black, she’s decided, but the darkest of browns, even darker than her own.  Ridiculous for someone with a name like Matheson.

Ridiculous what they do to her, a traitorous little voice whispers.

“Nice catch, Sargent.  I know I try your patience.  Why _is_ that?” he asks, voice silky with suggestion.

Nora’s heart stutters.  He knows.  And he’s an ass for bringing it up, because there’s not a damn thing they can do about it, not with the fraternisation rules and the difference in rank and the really, really strict protocols designed to stop women like herself from being preyed upon by assholes who think females have just one job in the military.

The problem is, General Matheson isn’t that kind of asshole.  He’s more arrogant than most, and has a bad habit of slicing people to ribbons with that bone dry wit, but she kind of likes that. And he listens to her ideas - gets nearly as excited about them as she does, in fact.  If she wants to test new tech in the field, he’ll make it happen.  And then he’ll crow about her genius to anyone who will listen, all the while eyeing her in a way that suggests he wants to apply that wicked tongue to every nook and cranny of her body.

And she wants him to.  She wants him so badly that her entire body sings when he walks into the room, dances to the rhythm of her thundering pulse, sweats and trembles and sighs deep in her core, so loud that it drowns out her ability to think, to tinker, to troubleshoot.  It’s a problem, considering he’s popping in every few hours to check progress on her latest project.  Which seems to be a bust.

Frustration a wise Nora does not make.  “You don’t think it’s the fact you’re always in here, breathing down my neck and making it impossible for me to concentrate?” she snaps, then freezes.  She’s pretty sure that was enough insubordination to get her sacked, not to mention far too revealing.  

She shuts her eyes to regain her equilibrium, handily avoiding the need to look at his face.  He’s watching her carefully when she opens them. She can’t read a damn thing on that studiously blank face, but he doesn’t seem angry. She hopes.  She still owes him an apology, though.

“I’m sorry, Sir.  Too many hours crouched over a workbench a cranky Marine makes,” she offers, knowing he respects her work ethic.  “It should be working and I can’t figure out why it’s not,” she says almost plaintively, rubbing at her aching neck.

“Maybe it’s time for a break.  You look a bit stiff.”

She shrugs dismissively.  “Just the usual.  Can’t do this sort of work without paying the price – I’ll go for a run tonight and hopefully that’ll help.”

“Let me?”

His large hands descend slowly on her shoulders and Nora forgets to breathe.  Forgets he shouldn’t be touching her.  Forgets everything, except how she can feel the warmth of his hands straight through the stiff cotton of her uniform, and how good it feels.  Too good.

“My niece is an osteopath.  She’s always going on about how most people hold all their tension in their neck, and how unhealthy it is.  That kid has hands so strong she can make you squirm,” he says lightly, flexing his fingers to pluck at the muscles at the base of her neck.

Nora wonders if his niece makes her clients squirm quite like this, every breath a fresh flush of want, every twitch of his hands throwing fuel on the fires of her arousal.  She can’t stop herself from arching back into him when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, and her guttural moan is so sexual she freezes with shame.  She’d run from the room if she could make herself leave.

Maybe he wouldn’t let her, a hopeful little voice chimes.  Because it wasn’t just his hands touching her now.  He’s huffing out little breaths right in her ear, the length of him hot against her back, his weight encouraging her down onto her elbows on the workbench.

He follows the line of vertebrae down her back, thumbs digging in either side of each bump, and Nora finds herself grabbing onto the edge of the bench to stop herself from pushing backwards, hard against his groin.  

Maybe that’s what breaks him.  His hands stop moving just above her tailbone, and she’s blushing, straightening up, when he grabs her hips and pulls her back into him.  Just for a moment.  Just long enough to feel how hard he is, to let her know she’s not alone in this.

His voice is hoarse when he eventually speaks.  “I’ll let you get back to your work, Sargent.  Give it another hour, and then take off.  Maybe things will be clearer in the morning.”

But she wants, she wants …

Nora swallows, and does her best to calm her breathing.  Fucking on her workbench would be both unsanitary and inconvenient, she tells herself.  Not to mention professionally catastrophic if they got caught.  But she’ll be damned if she’s going to pretend nothing happened.

“Are you sure?  I’m – really going to need that run,” she confesses, forcing herself to meet his gaze.  There’s no reason to explain why.  Her lip is bloody with biting at it, and her skin is still flushed with arousal.

“Yep.  Call it a day,” he says curtly.  “I like the track along the river, myself.  S’nice around sunset.”

Oh, the bastard.  He’s leaving it up to her to decide just how badly they want to break the rules.  He can’t chase her, but he’ll let himself be caught. If she wants that.

“Yes, General,” she says, and tries to keep the smile from her face.

Sunset is half an hour away when she pulls up in the park next to the river, tucking her hair into her Camp Pendleton cap and zipping a hoodie over her crop top.  Usually, she’d run with her iPod blaring, but this time she wants to be alert to her surroundings.

She nearly misses him anyway.  She’s wondering if she imagined the entire incident when a tall man in raggedy running shots and a Metallica t-shirt shoulderchecks her on his way past, then makes her chase him for four miles. Just like the asshole general, she finds herself laughing, even though the man ahead looks nothing like the General she knows.  He smothers his raw sexual appeal in a sharply pressed uniform and slicked back hair; this guy, hair messy and falling over his forehead as he lopes ahead of her, looks like an aging rock star.

She’s having trouble breathing, and it’s nothing to do with the pace they’ve set.

The river path winds its way through a series of secluded grottos, each prettier than the last.  They are both sweaty and out of breath when he drags her down onto a bench in the most secluded of the lot, then licks his way into her mouth with a kiss that tells her they’re just getting started.

Thank God I didn’t know he kissed like this, Nora finds herself thinking as his tongue strokes her own, slicks over her teeth, then plunges into the cavity of her mouth again, slow and sure, a tightening spiral of sensation. I would have let him take me, right there in the lab, she panics. I would have _begged_ him to.

They curl in on each other as they kiss, until need forces her to clamber into his lap, rocking against him in silent demand. He buries his face in her neck for a moment, his harsh breaths shaking both their bodies as he fights for control. Then he lifts his head to watch her face as he slides his hands under the band of her running bra, slowly pushing it up to free her breasts. He waits for her breathless assent before his attention swoops downwards, a groan escaping him as he swallows her breasts in his huge hands.

Nora grins at his rapture, bracing her hands behind her on his knees to give him all the space he needs. He rewards her by flicking her long, brown nipples with his thumbs, even as his dextrous fingers continue to shape her fullness lovingly. She’s writhing within minutes, arching her back helplessly, nipples as hard as bullets from what feels like hours of torment.

“ _Please_ , General,” she begs, and then rolls her eyes at the wolfish grin that spreads across his face. She knows his name – she does – but it’s the General who inhabits all of her fantasies, and right now she doesn’t give a damn if he knows it.

As long as he makes them come true.

Nora keens as he lashes her poor, abused nipples with his tongue, then catches them between his teeth, tugging cruelly.  She’s babbling by the time he relents, soothing the aching points with a hard suck that leaves her riding his lap in a timeless grind of not-quite-satisfaction.

“Do you want me to get you off?  Right here, in public?”

“Oh God, yes!”

“What was that?”

“Yes, Sir.  Please, General,” she pants.   His cock twitches underneath her, obviously appreciative of the role play, so she decides to hit it out of the park.  “Respectfully requesting you fuck me.  Right now, Sir.”

His anguished moan makes her giggle as she slides backwards a little to release his cock from the running shorts.  She can’t help but give it a swipe of her tongue as she slides off the bench to shimmy out of her running pants, then falls on her knees in front of him to tease him with a longer suck.  He’s bucking up into her mouth and cursing a blue streak by the time she settles back over his lap.

This time they groan together.

He slides both arms underneath her thighs and lifts her up to him for a long kiss before easing her down, inch by swollen inch.  His voice is rougher than she’s ever heard, three packs a day and rotgut whiskey as he mutters about how good she feels, how wet she is, how he’s been dreaming about this, the hot clench of her pussy. She can barely make sense of the words as her consciousness narrows to his furred chest scratching at her nipples, his heat scorching her through, his cock, silky and brutal, thrusting up into her swollen, sensitive flesh.

“Okay?”

She keeps her mouth shut for fear of screaming her demands to the last glimmer of twilight, and spreads her thighs even further apart in a bid to sink deeper.  He’s cleaving her in two.  Tearing her apart.

It’s the best sex she’s ever had.

Nora loops her hands around his neck and brings their foreheads together as she circles her hips, a slow, made once, twice.  He pulls clear off him the third time she attempts it, then lets her fall straight back down again. Then lifts her again, and slams her down.  Suddenly, she’s close, ridiculously close considering neither of them has even gone near her poor, throbbing clit.

It seems to have found its happy place all by itself, she giggles.  The little vibrations prove too much.

“Permission to come all over your cock, General?”

“Permission granted, Marine.  Hoorah!”

“Hoo – hoo …  oh God, ooooh …”  her entire body shudders and shakes as the convulsions rip through her, teeth sinking into the side of his neck by pure reflex.  He liked that, her lizard brain notes as everything else checks out for the duration.  It had been the bite that made him grit his teeth, throw back his head, and abandon his clever rhythm to fuck up into her like a man possessed.

Just the look on his face as he spills inside of her dumps her right back on the edge. The wash of warmth deep inside, his ferocity … Nora wraps her one arm around his neck and reaches down with the other to massage her clit.  It’s too sensitive after her previous orgasm for anything more than wide, gentle circles, and she wants to move, needs to undulate, need …

“You need to come again, baby?  Slow?  We can do slow,” he purrs, and Nora finds herself being lowered onto his thighs, pussy tight around his exhausted cock, strong hands now anchoring her by the shoulders.  His eyes dart between the lazy path of her fingers around the dark red bud, and her face, watching her every reaction.  Warm brown, she realises with a shock, is now nearly black, boiling pools of cunning intent, simultaneously the General she admires, and a dangerous, predatory stranger.

Who really likes giving orders.  

He licks his lips as her fingers flick at her clit, making it swell visibly, and throb.  Nora moans, then flushes, embarrassed by just how wrecked she sounds.  His hands tighten on her shoulders and he hauls her close to worship at the wash of colour over her breasts and neck.

“Gorgeous,” he mutters, flicking at her hard nipples with a merciless tongue.  Then he thrusts her away again, their gazes locking once more.

“I like your clit, Nora.  Show it off for me.  Make it feel good,” he instructs, sliding one hand along her collarbone and own her arm while the other holds her fast.  “What happens when you do this?” he asks, rolling her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

She follows suit, panting at the intensity of it.

“Mmm, good girl.  What about this?”

It’s a pinch, and a hard one.  Nora demurs, keeps her strokes gentle, but then he does it again, this time twisting as pulls.  Her pussy clenches so hard she wonders if it knows something she doesn’t it.

“Do it, Nora.”

She obeys, and comes so fast and hard that her muscles threaten to lock up.

“Owwwwww,” she moans as her body judders around him.  “Jesus Christ, General.”

He pulls her hair away from her neck and nuzzles into it as he works her through the contractions.  “Still sore, baby?  Maybe I can help you with that tomorrow.  But this time we lock the door.”

“Huh?”  Body, meet brain.  Time to get on the same page again.

“My cure for sore muscles.  Another massage?”

“During the day? Too much work to do.  I’ve got this dick of a General busting my ass to get it done.”

“Yeah, well, the General’s dick is confident you’ll get it done.  Before break even.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  Remind me to lock the door.  Because the next time I bend you over that bench?  I’m gonna be inside you at the time.”

His smirk tells her he knows exactly what she’d been thinking earlier in the day, maybe even for weeks.  And it’s still inconvenient, unhygienic, against the rules and damn unwise.  Not to mention, he’s too goddamn smug.  But …

“I’ll try and schedule you in.  Sir.”

“You do that, Sargent,” he says, smug.  “And Nora?  I think it’s time you called me Miles.”

“Yes, General.”

It earns her a slap on the ass, but it’s completely worth it.  

_fin_


End file.
